


Biting Weakness

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Trans Duck Newton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: Based on the comment about Duck having a Biting Weakness in the Halloween Special.-“Ah- ah. Yes. I found out your weakness, Duck.”“Pretty sure my weakness is squirming around in my lap right now.”Indrid chuckles, breathy and fond.“Well see, what I heard, is you have a biting weakness.”
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Biting Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe it took me this long to finally write Indruck. This was initially just a smut idea but as usual I leaked some softness in there. I love these boys a lot.

Duck’s head is spinning in the wake of the police breaking up their battle. The authorities’ focus is mainly on the victims, so their confused and dazed trio are not immediately approached.

Not by the sheriff and his men, anyway. A skeleton comes zig zagging through the crowd towards them, wearing a heavy cardigan over their bones. It’s only when Duck sees the red glasses does he realise it’s Indrid.

“Oh, Duck, are you okay?” Indrid’s hands are cold, as always, against Duck’s flushed cheeks. His thumbs trace along Duck’s cheekbones and Duck’s lashes flutter at the soothing sensation. “I tried to make it sooner. I’m sorry, if I could have prevented this-“

Duck’s warm fingers slip beneath the sleeve of the cardigan to curl around Indrid’s thin wrist. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“I saw it. I saw it, and I couldn’t do anything, and-“

“And it’s still not your fault.” Duck tries to give Indrid a Serious Look to drive home his message, but his eyes keep sliding out of focus and he feels light headed and a little nauseous. Indrid presses his forehead to Duck’s temple, leaving a print of white face paint in Duck’s hair.

“Come. I’ll take you to the hospital. All three of you. There’s not enough ambulances for everyone.”

Indrid manages to shepherd Duck, Aubrey, and Ned outside and away from the crowd of the street fair, back towards the Cryptonomica. Duck doesn’t need to tell him where his car is parked, Indrid leads them there without question and fishes Duck’s keys from his back pocket. 

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t real,” Aubrey keeps whispering to herself. Like she’s forgotten she has already said it. Then she giggles, high and shaky. “Fuck I’m glad that creepy ass doll wasn’t real.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ned says, with some feeling. He shakes his fist a little and Indrid gently pushes it down, and then pushes on Ned’s shoulder to encourage him into the back seat. 

The drive is mostly uneventful, and the emergency room waiting area is full of costumed inhabitants of Kepler. Aubrey panic flutters around for a while in concern about Dani until she sees she’s alright. Duck himself is relieved to see their friends are doing okay, but he starts to feel a sinking concern when he remembers-

“She’ll be fine,” Indrid says.

“Huh?” Duck blinks at him. Indrid smiles back, that toothy smile that was somewhat unnerving until Duck got used to it.

“Muffy. You didn’t hit anything vital, and you didn’t actually hit her as hard as you believe you did. She’ll be fine. There won’t be any charges. You’ll send her a lovely apology bouquet and she’ll be snippy and a little rude. You’ll expect this but send the bouquet anyway, because that’s who you are as a person.”

“A shmuck.”

“Thoughtful. Caring. Considerate,” Indrid says, without missing a beat. Duck sighs and sinks down in his chair a little, suddenly exhausted.

Compared to everyone else, he shows up comparatively clear when they run checks on him. It’s not too surprising; his chosen powers mean his metabolism runs in hyper drive. A heartbreak realisation of his youth when his stoner’s high would wear off far too quick and it took more beers than his high school pocket change could afford to keep him buzzed. 

“I’ll get a lift back to the Lodge when the others are going,” Aubrey tells Duck when he checks in on her, holding Dani’s hand where she’s sat up in a hospital bed.

“And Kirby is coming to pick me up, Duck. You can head on home,” Ned says.

“If y’all are sure.”

The chill night air leaves the sky above the pines clear and dotted with stars as they drive back. It’s quicker as the crow flies to Indrid’s RV, but having to pick through the forest roads would slow them down, so Indrid sticks to the main roads and heads back to town. Duck’s fingers tap an anxious rhythm against his leg.

“I can assure you, Duck, there is no future where anything happens to this car tonight.”

“I know, it’s just-“

“You’ve been the one driving for so long you’re not used to being a passenger and the loss of control makes you uncomfortable, I know, but I promise we’ll be fine.”

Duck blinks at him with the momentary surprise he always has when Indrid seems to take the thoughts right out of his head, then smiles, soft and small. 

“Alright partner, if you say so.”

Kepler turns from a distant dot of light to familiar streets, and Indrid slows on Duck’s street. He knows before he tries his parking isn’t going to be great. It’s not like he parallel parks the Winnebago that often. Biting his lip when he sees how far from the curb he is.

“Oh, I should reattempt-“

“Leave it. No one’s gonna hit it,” Duck says, and pushes his door open.

Indrid draws his cardigan tighter around him when he leaves the heat of Duck’s car, and shuffles close behind him as they head up to the apartment. Pinecone comes rushing at the sound of the door, purring as she rubs herself between their legs.

“Hey darlin’.” Duck scoops her up and presses a kiss to her forehead, then holds her up for Indrid to offer his fingers too. She gives them a headbutt with another rumbling purr, and he rubs beneath her chin before Duck drops her and continues in.

“You should probably get washed up,” Indrid suggests quietly. 

“Get Muffy’s blood off, you mean? Shit. I still can’t believe-“

Indrid catches the wrist of his hand before it makes it to his temple. He presses a kiss to the bump of his wrist bone, rubbing his cool thumb along Duck’s warm one. 

“She’s okay, Duck, and you’re okay. It’s over now and you’re here with me.”

Duck sighs and then leans into Indrid, let’s him wrap his long arms around him, slipping his hands beneath Indrid’s cardigan. 

“Cute costume,” he murmurs into Indrid’s chest. Indrid chuckles.

“Thank you. Yours is… interesting.”

“Feels pretty ridiculous now.”

“On the contrary, the way it showcases your arms is quite appealing.” Indrid’s hands run down along his biceps and Duck shivers. “Do you need help getting cleaned up?”

“Nah. Much as I enjoy showering with you, I think I’m gonna have to do some scrubbin’. Not very sexy.” 

“Not why I was offering.”

“I know, I just- need a little breather alone.”

“Of course.” Indrid lets him go and Duck heads to the bathroom. 

He strips his costume off and runs the water almost as hot as he would if he were showering with Indrid (who prefers near scalding water compared to Duck’s more temperate showers). Easing a leg in first to adjust, then an arm, then the rest of his body. He soaps a face cloth up and scrubs and scrubs at his skin even after the blood stains are gone.

It’s twenty minutes before he emerges in a bathrobe, skin raw and flushed. Indrid has tea and a sandwich waiting for him and is curled up on the couch, nursing his own mug of nog with Pinecone purring on his lap.

“You haven’t had the chance to eat all evening, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Duck sits beside him, and his appetite has never been impacted by stress, so he takes a hearty bite from that sandwich. Humming his enjoyment. Indrid smiles against his mug.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm- mmph.” Duck holds up a hand until he’s finished chewing and swallows. “Shit. I, uh, yeah, I just- uh. Just fuckin’ great.”

“Duck.”

“Fuck Drid, I dunno. It’s not the worst I’ve been through. It’s not even the worst I’ve done. I just- I mean, it’s the fact it was… was…”

“An innocent?”

“Well, in broad terms. In many ways I can’t say Muffy is innocent.”

Indrid laughs and places a hand on the back of Duck’s neck. The contrast of his cool fingers is even more noticeable against Duck’s shower flushed skin, but it feels nice. He sighs and leans into the touch as Indrid gently massages his fingertips into the muscles at the base of Duck’s neck.

“I’ll be alright,” he says after a moment. “Just a bit of a shock. Some processing to do. Feels fuckin’ weird that I can’t trust my brain, y’know? We see some pretty wild things but usually I can trust what my eyes are sending to my brain, no matter how wild it is.”

“Mhm.” Indrid nods, and even with his reflection staring back at him, Duck knows Indrid’s eyes are attentive behind his glasses. 

“Hey uh, do you-“

“I got it on,” Indrid says, moving his hand from Duck’s neck to show him the woven band on his wrist. A second disguise charm. His glasses are not always ideal. They get knocked aside or press painfully into his face whenever they’re cuddled together in bed or during some of their sexual escapades. Plus Duck had shyly mentioned wishing he could see Indrid’s eyes more often. So he’d made a back up disguise to allow him to remove his glasses.

“Can I-?” Duck reaches up, but pauses without touching his glasses. Indrid smiles and gives a nod. Duck’s fingers gently grasp the arms of his glasses and he slides them off. Indrid blinks owlishly at him as the world goes from red tinted to clear, sharp colours. “There’s those pretty eyes.”

Indrid smiles and brushes his thumb along Duck’s cheek.

“You’re the only one who thinks so.”

“‘Cause I’m the only one who gets to see them,” Duck says, tongue poking cheekily between his teeth. He reaches to stroke Indrid’s cheek, then pulls a face as he smudges black paint along it. “You wanna go wash your face?”

“Oh, yes. I might have a quick shower myself if you don’t mind.”

“Course not, baby. I’ll leave some clothes on the radiator for you to change into.”

“Thank you.” His fingers press briefly into Duck’s hair, nails lightly scratching delightfully along his scalp, and he almost mimics Pinecone’s mewl of displeasure as Indrid leaves the couch. 

Duck finishes off the sandwich and tea and washes the dishes, then gets some of his older clothes that don’t quite fit him anymore, but don’t completely drown Indrid. He leaves them on the radiator to get them nice and warm and has the sherpa blanket from the back of the couch ready to wrap around Indrid when he shuffles back into the room, hair damp and ruffled.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you this evening,” Indrid says, sinking into his blanket embrace.

“But I like lookin’ after you too much to stop,” Duck says, dotting kisses along Indrid’s now clean temple. Indrid hums happily, tilting his face up to accept a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Duck draws away slow and takes on the unobscured view or Indrid’s eyes, hooded and happy. “Beautiful.”

Indrid makes a soft sound and presses his face into Duck’s shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t go hidin’ on me.”

“I’m not, you’re just comfy.” A wiry arm slips around Duck’s waist and Indrid’s lips brush featherlight against his neck. 

“While that may be true, you’re definitely hiding. Come back here and let me stare at that gorgeous face.”

“Duck.”

“Look, I know it ain’t you-you, but you said you’re comfortable like this, right? So I can love it just as much as your real form.” 

Indrid makes a little grumble noise which Duck knows is his way of deciding not to have the same argument they’ve been over a dozen times before. Indrid never quite believing Duck likes his Sylph form, and never feeling quite comfortable taking compliments about his human disguise. It always ends up with Duck pointing out he can’t lie and Indrid being unable to debate that.

Slowly he lifts his head, and Duck smiles warm and soft at him.

“There he is.” Taking Indrid’s jaw in his hand and tilting his head up. Kissing his forehead, his eyebrow, his cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth. Indrid softens and smiles beneath his affections, greedy hands slipping beneath Duck’s shirt to soak up his body warmth. Duck squirms.

“Tickles,” he says with a little chuckle.

“My apologies.” Indrid lays his palms flat against Duck’s skin so there’s no light brush of his fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. More settled. Kinda mind fucked, but… what else is new around here, right?”

Indrid hums. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. Barclay was supposed to be my ride to Ned’s party after they popped into town, but, well…”

“They got tied up.”

“Most literally, yes. Then I kept having really vivid visions so it was hard to focus on where I was going, and I was afraid to use my Sylph form in case someone spotted me.”

“Baby, are you telling me you walked the whole way through the woods to get here?”

“Yes.” Indrid blinks up at him. He looks younger without his glasses. His face still a little weathered with age lines, but his eyes are big, bright, vulnerable. Maybe it’s because Duck is used to looking at his twin reflections, but he feels like he sees so much more of Indrid’s emotions without his glasses. He looks apologetic. Duck leans their foreheads together.

“Indrid.”

“None of you were in any state to drive. You needed someone to take you to St Francis’. If I had of been there sooner-“

“Don’t.” Duck rubs the tip of his nose lightly up and down the side of Indrid’s. “Don’t start with _what if_ ’s, darlin. You know it’s just a spiral.”

“I know.” Indrid sighs. 

“It happened. It’s over. We’re okay, and you’re here now.”

“I am.”

“And I love you.”

Indrid’s defeated expression brightens. Eyes scrunching a little as he smiles.

“I love you, Duck Newton.”

“Well, good. Be kinda awkward at this point for a fella to find out the cryptid he’s datin’ ain’t actually into him, Yknow?”

“No worries there, love.”

Duck adjusts the blanket around Indrid as he sits back again, skimming through the same small collection of channels on a loop until he lands on news covering the evening in Kepler. Frowning at the sight of Dave’s Dehumidifier Depot on the television. 

_“- a number of the town’s residents have been taken to hospital for treatment. A night out that ended up bringing some real scares to the inhabitants of this little town.”_

Indrid’s fingers shift over his on the remote, and with a couple of quick clicks he’s changed to a nature documentary set in the Rocky Mountains. Duck glances at him.

“Perhaps it would do best to give your mind a rest from it,” he says, hand hurrying back under Duck’s shirt. Duck tenses slightly as his fingers slide through the hair of his happy trail before rubbing soft circles around his belly button. 

“And what-“ Duck starts.

Indrid’s head lolls briefly against his shoulder and then he frowns at Duck like he’s about to scold a naughty child.

“That is not what I meant, Duck Newton.”

Duck tries to look innocent but his face breaks into a grin.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I didn’t say nothin’.”

“You were about to.”

“Just gonna ask whatever could take my mind off it…” His absently twirls some of Indrid’s hair around his fingers, before sliding them down to rub at the curve of his skull. Indrid melts beneath his touch.

“Duck.”

“Yeah darlin’?” Already there’s a husky edge creeping into Duck’s voice.

“You’re not well, love.”

“I feel good as new.”

“You may recover quickly but you’re definitely not back at full yet,” Indrid says, tilting his head to kiss Duck’s wrist.

“Thought you was gonna take care of me.” Duck leans in close, breath hot against Indrid’s ear, and feels him shiver against him.

“And you’re drugged.”

“Let me live out all the kinky teen high sex I never got to have.”

Indrid looks stricken.

“If you’re not of the right mind-“

“Hey, hey, I’m just foolin’ with ya. I’m definitely over that. You know how much effort it takes for me to even get drunk, let alone stay it for any amount of time. I promise you ain’t takin’ advantage.”

Indrid makes a little _mrrrr_ sound, the pads of his fingers still circling the soft skin of Duck’s tummy in a soothing pattern. Then Duck suddenly goes tense.

“Oh, shit, fuck Indrid-“

“Duck-“

“I’m sorry if you don’t wanna, you could just say, I never meant to be pressurin’ you or anything like that.”

“Duck.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Duck Newton.”

“Uh, yeah?” Duck ducks his head, feeling guilty. He knows Indrid’s desires don’t work the same way as his. Indrid seems happy enough to have sex, is an enthusiastic partner actually, has told Duck it feels nice and he enjoys the closeness, but he doesn’t really crave it how Duck does sometimes. Duck’s usually the one to initiate, and when Indrid does, Duck is pretty sure it’s because he’s had a vision of Duck about to.

Indrid’s hand slides out from his shirt to stroke his cheek.

“Hey. It’s not that I don’t want to, I am just concerned about you. You’ve been through so much tonight and I… I know it’s upset you.”

“Yeah.” Duck sighs, leans into Indrid’s touch. Waits patiently as Indrid’s gaze goes blank and his head rolls back again briefly.

“This would… help you,” he says slowly after a moment.

“I mean, it’s a nice distraction, but I’m always happy to just cuddle and watch tv with you, Indrid. You know you don’t gotta do stuff just for me.”

“Oh, sweetness, I know. You have been very clear about that, and I trust you. But I do… want to take care of you tonight.” His hand is on Duck’s thigh now, fingers sliding up between them at a slow, steady pace that has Duck clenching in anticipation. “So if you take it easy, and just let me.”

Duck opens his mouth to protest and Indrid presses a finger to it before he can speak. Duck’s eyes narrow slightly in defiance, before he sucks Indrid’s finger into his mouth, circling with his tongue.

“Cheeky,” Indrid says, pulling his finger free and flicking Duck on the nose.

“Hey!” Duck laughs, pulling Indrid in for a kiss. Indrid’s hands soft and warm as they slide up along the line of his jaw and into his hair, nails trailing lightly along his scalp. Duck moans, circling an arm around Indrid’s low back and dragging him onto his lap, the blanket hanging over Indrid’s shoulders like a cape. His hands map the slim plane of Indrid’s back as he licks into his mouth. 

“I-“ Indrid is breathless and flushed when he draws back, eyes a little glassy. “Saw something interesting in my visions of this evening.”

“That so?” With Indrid’s mouth no longer in reach, Duck starts kissing his neck instead. Trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down to the curve of his throat and sucking lightly there. Indrid’s hands clench a little tighter in his hair. 

“Ah- _ah_. Yes. I found out your weakness, Duck.”

“Pretty sure my weakness is squirming around in my lap right now.”

Indrid chuckles, breathy and fond.

“Well see, what I heard, is you have a biting weakness.”

“Oh. _Fuck._ ” Duck’s cock _throbs_ at the implication, hips bucking up uselessly against Indrid. 

“Would that be true?” Indrid’s mouth is suddenly by his ear, teeth teasing along the shell. “Sweetness?”

“M-might be,” Duck says shakily, then, when Indrid bites down on his earlobe: “Fuck.”

“That sounds promising, but I think I’ll have to test it some more.” 

Indrid shifts Duck and pushes him until he’s on his back on the couch, Indrid straddling his thighs. The blanket falls abandoned to the ground. Duck’s hands find their way to Indrid’s hips and he rubs his thumbs along the curve of his hipbones as Indrid bends down to bite lightly at Duck’s neck. 

“Mmph.”

“If it gets too much at any point-“

“I’ll ask you to stop, I know.”

“Good boy.” Indrid moves up briefly to press a quick kiss to the corner of Duck’s mouth, before dipping down to mouth and nip at the column of his throat again. Duck’s fingers toy with the base of Indrid’s shirt, before a hand slips under it to feel the skin of his back. Nails trailing lightly as Indrid bites particularly hard at the curve of his shoulder.

“Fuck, Indrid.” Duck’s hips roll up against him again. He feels slick and hard and electric, desperate for friction. 

“Not quite yet, sweetness,” Indrid coos, kissing over the fresh bruise on Duck’s neck (thoughtfully beneath where his work shirt collar covers), before he starts to push his shirt up. Duck sits up to help cast it off. 

Indrid sits back on Duck’s hips, taking a moment to take him in. His fingers trail down the centre of Duck’s chest, teasing the hair that never grew in as thick as Duck wanted, before smoothing down over his stomach. Indrid looks at him like he’s something precious he never quite believes he’s allowed to touch. Duck flushes with pleasure beneath that gaze.

“So handsome,” Indrid says with a sigh, leaning to press a kiss over Duck’s heart. Duck strokes his cheek, guides him up for a long, lingering kiss that is full of as much affection as it is desire. “My handsome human. I am going to paint this body in my marks. Claim you all over.”

Duck moans at the thought.

“Please do.”

“Oh, I’m going to,” Indrid says, and gets to doing just that. He shifts between nips and kisses over Duck’s shoulders. When his mouth finds Duck’s collarbone, he sucks a row of dark bruises along it, has Duck arching up against him with whimpers and swears. He takes Duck’s left nipple lightly between his teeth and flicks his tongue against it until Duck is moaning and grinding up against him, then shifts and does the same to the right one.

“Fuck, Indrid, darlin’.” Duck’s hands are buried in his hair now, ruffling it more than usual. He’s trying not to be rough but on particularly sharp sensations he gives a little tug. 

“It seems this is quite your weakness,” Indrid says, smirking as he nuzzles against Duck’s chest.

“Still pretty sure that’s just you, baby.” He scratches lightly at Indrid’s scalp behind his ear and Indrid nuzzles into his palm with a quiet hum. He tilts his head, kisses Duck’s palm, then bows to bite at his tummy. Duck snickers when he catches a ticklish spot.

After kissing, nipping, and nuzzling at the soft skin of Duck’s tummy for a while, Indrid slides off the couch to kneel on the floor. 

“My, my, someone certainly smells aroused after all that.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I would never blame you for your pleasure, my sweet.” Indrid teases his thumb down along the front of Duck’s sweatpants, just lightly grazing his cock. Duck whimpers, presses his hips up for more, but Indrid draws away.

“Fuckin’ tease.”

“What was that?”

“I said- fuck, uh, please?”

Indrid laughs, clearly not buying the lie. He bites at Duck’s thigh through his sweatpants, then slips his long fingers beneath the waistband.

“Lift for me, please.”

Duck does so and Indrid slides his trousers and underwear off together. The sight of Duck; flushed, swollen, slick before him, makes Indrid want to bury his face between his legs and make him come until his knees are weak. But he’s taking his time in this moment, so he ignores the desire and shifts back to cup one of Duck’s knees with his palm, pressing a kiss to the inside.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna drive me wild if you keep me waitin’.”

“That’s quite the idea.” Indrid presses another kiss, then bites the tender skin of Duck’s thigh above the knee. Duck makes a sound akin to _nzzghurg_ and Indrid smiles around his skin, sucking until it darkens in a bruise.

He continues his path up between Duck’s legs, alternating thighs. Sometimes biting lightly, sometimes sucking bruises, sometimes teasing with soft kisses. On his upper thigh Indrid sucks three bruises into a bad, blob rendition of his Sylph form that kind of looks like the Bat symbol. Duck’s fingers getting less gentle in his hair the further up he gets, tugging in light, insistent pulses now.

“Someone’s getting needy,” Indrid says, keeping his voice light as he gently pushes Duck’s thighs further apart. 

“Mmph.”

“You want me to suck your dick, sweetness?”

“Yes. So much yes, Indrid.”

“Okay.” Indrid smiles, a flash of his grin, before he presses forward and draws his tongue along the underside of Duck’s cock. Duck squirms, sensitive from all the teasing, breathing heavy as Indrid circles his cock with his tongue before closing his lips around it. He glances up at Duck through dark lashes as he sucks a few times, drawing a ragged moan from Duck.

After a couple of minutes of this, Indrid draws back, his index finger drawing a circle around the Mothman bruising on Duck’s thigh.

“How do you feel about being penetrated tonight?”

Duck flusters and squirms. He’s quite certain Indrid already knows the answer, because he never, _ever_ asks Duck about it whenever he doesn’t feel like it. Which means his asking is more to hear Duck say it than for any confirmation.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Please.”

“Please what, Duck? Use your words.”

“God damn it, Indrid, please fuck me with those nice long fingers of yours.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? But first-“ Indrid ducks down again, and Duck feels the wet, soft press of his tongue; first against his entrance, then pressing in slow. His eyes shut with a whine as he tries not to grind down against Indrid’s face. 

Duck’s hand finds Indrid’s resting on his thigh and he takes it. Indrid rubs a thumb over his reassuringly, and Duck gives a soft squeeze back, which becomes a harder squeeze as Indrid draws back slightly, then presses his tongue deep again. His nose rubs against the base of Duck’s cock in a way that sends pleasure sparking through him. He knows from experience he could come just like this.

His breathing turns into pants as he feels himself getting close. Soaked with a mixture of his own juices and Indrid’s saliva. His hips start rolling down of their own accord, fucking onto Indrid’s tongue, grinding his dick against Indrid’s nose. So close so close _so close._

Indrid draws back and Duck whines loudly in protest.

“Not just yet, sweetness. You wanted these.” Then there’s two fingers sliding effortlessly into him, curling into just the right spot, causing him to slack jawed moan. Indrid finger fucking him with increasing speed as he closes his mouth around Duck’s cock and drags his tongue up it in a firm, purposeful rhythm. 

Duck comes so hard that he’s pretty sure his brain has to restart and he loses a few seconds of consciousness. He comes and comes and comes, his orgasm stretching on. It might only be like twenty seconds but it feels like a whole minute of pleasure rippling through him, muscles tensing, before everything goes loose and languid.

“All good?” Indrid asks, and when Duck blinks his bleary eyes open he sees Indrid hovering over him, gently smoothing his hair back.

“Mmm-mm,” he hums. Words feel too hard right now.

Indrid smiles, kisses the corner of his mouth softly, then disappears. He’s back in a moment with a towel he’s wet the corner of, and he uses it to softly wipe Duck’s thighs clean. Washing away what’s left of his slick. He gives one last kiss to Duck’s thigh before shifting away.

Once he’s rid of the towel, Indrid slides in the space between Duck and the back of the couch, wrapping the sherpa blanket around his naked boyfriend. Duck hums again, happy and stated, his head lolling against Indrid’s chest when he wraps him in his arms.

Indrid brushes Duck’s hair back and presses soft kisses across his forehead, temple, and flushed cheek. Duck makes soft happy sounds at the affection, hand balling loosely in Indrid’s shirt.

“Fuck, that was good,” he says at last. “Legs feel like fuckin’ jelly.”

“I’ve noticed. You’re trembling.”

“Yeah I’m like fuckin’ Bambi tryna learn to walk.”

“Bambi?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s a deer. From a-“

“Disney film,” Indrid says with him.

“Yeah. When he’s just a fawn he stumbles all over the place on his lil shaky legs. What mine feel like.”

Indrid chuckles, mouth pressed to his hair. He strokes Duck’s quivering thigh softly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna satisfy you once I remember how to control my limbs again.” Duck rolls to face him, one hand sliding down to palm Indrid through his sweats. 

“That- oh. That’s unnecessary. I’m perfectly satisfied having taken care of you.”

“But who says _I’m_ satisfied leavin’ you hangin’?”

“Really, Duck. You’re quite worn out.”

“Baby, tell me, is there really any future where I don’t get you off?”

Indrid’s head leans back against the couch as his gaze goes vacant. Duck runs his thumb along the line of his waistband while he waits.

“There’s one where if I keep you warm enough you’ll fall asleep,” Indrid says when he blinks back. Duck kicks the blanket off them dramatically. “Hey!”

“Can’t have me gettin’ too warm then.” He grins. Taps Indrid on the tip of his nose. 

“You know I don’t have any expectations, Duck. This is not an exchange-“

“Yeah, I know that, but I would like to get my very sweet, very attractive partner off after he’s given me such a fuckin’ mind blowin’ orgasm, y’know?”

Indrid makes a little tittering noise and presses his face to Duck’s neck. Duck strokes a hand down his spine.

“You really gonna get shy on me after I just came all over your face ‘n’ fingers?” 

“It’s not shyness. I just- It’s still overwhelming, sometimes, that you would feel like that for me.”

“Well, I do.” Duck kisses Indrid, though it’s a fair bit softer and more languid than he intended. Indrid hums, matches his softness even though Duck can still feel him distinctly _not_ soft against his thigh. He presses his leg forward and Indrid whines into his mouth. 

“Hey, would it be alright if I-“

“Fuck me? Certainly.”

Duck laughs, and bites playfully on the tip of Indrid’s nose. He knows Indrid doesn’t mean to cut across him speaking, that only sometimes is it his way of speeding a conversation up and mostly just an old habit that’s hard to shake. It still surprises him sometimes.

“Were you thinking a toy or- oh, no you weren’t. I’ll go get it.”

“It’s in the-“

“Bedside drawer, I know. I’ll get the other stuff too.” He brushes a thumb along Duck’s lower lip, and Duck kisses it before Indrid climbs over him and heads for the bedroom. Duck fetches water and follows, knowing this will be more comfortable for them on the bed. He almost drops the water when he steps in the doorway.

“Impatient,” he says, watching Indrid press a second finger into himself.

“Mm, just foresaw you watching me as the quickest way for you to recover from your first orgasm,” Indrid says. 

“Any fuckin’ wonder. God, you’re a sight. I could just eat you up.” Duck sets his water by the beside, then slips an arm behind Indrid’s back to shift him up so he can give him some water too. Indrid gasps as the move presses his fingers deeper into himself, then gratefully takes a long drink.

“Thank you, Duck.”

“Why you’re very welcome, Indrid.” Duck snickers and gently lays him on the pillows again. He sits Indrid’s glass on the bedside table, and lifts the woven band that Indrid has left sitting there. Identical to Indrid’s secondary disguise.

Duck smiles as he slides it on, remembers how nervous Indrid had been when he’d offered it to him. A birthday gift.

_“I- I know you’re comfortable with your body, and please, please don’t take this as me trying to undermine your gender in any way. I would never- You know we don’t even prescribe to human gender norms in Sylvain so that’s really, really not my intention at all.”_

_“It’s okay, Drid. I know you’d never intentionally be a dick about that.”_

_“Yes. Good. Well, I know there were a few reasons you chose to forgo bottom surgery, but that you, uh, you’ve wondered- and I thought it would be a nice option- since you don’t get the same sensation from the toys-“_

_“What?” Duck snorts. “You got me a dick?”_

_“Ah, something like that.” Indrid holds out the band, and even without asking Duck knows what it is. He can just about see the outline of Indrid’s eyes through his reflection in his glasses, and he holds his gaze as Indrid slides the band on his wrist._

_It doesn’t feel like a shift. More like a fresh reality layered over his own. Like if he wore this long enough he’d forget there was ever a time without the new weight between his legs._

_“Fuck.” Duck doesn’t expect the sudden sting of tears. The trembling in his hands. The rush of emotion that spills over him. He’s gained confidence and acceptance in his body over the years, but something about this feels so_ **_right_ ** _in a way he doesn’t have words for._

_“Oh, I’m sorry. I- I foresaw you liking this, but I messed up, I-“_

_Duck kisses him because he doesn’t trust his voice to portray just how wrong Indrid is. Fists his hands in Indrid’s hair, kisses him with so much force and passion, Indrid’s glasses smushed between them, digging into their noses. He doesn’t care._

He still gets that rush as he slides it on. That feeling of rightness. He’s found enjoyment in his body regardless of its state, but something about sliding the bracelet on feels like coming home. 

Indrid makes a soft sound as he eases a third finger into himself, and Duck’s cock stirs between his legs. He’s able to wrap his whole hand around it like this, give it a few slow strokes as his gaze draws down over Indrid.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” He walks to the bottom of the bed and eases Indrid’s legs further apart, getting a clearer view of those long fingers curving into him. “But I think I can take over from here.”

He gently guides Indrid’s hand out of the way and climbs onto the bed to kneel between his legs. Duck slowly lubes up his own fingers, Indrid watching him through hooded eyes. He brushes a slick finger along Indrid’s entrance before slowly pressing it in.

“Up to three of your fingers and you’re still so tight, baby.”

“Nngh. Your fingers are a little thicker than mine.”

“Yeah, they are. Better to stretch you out for me.” Indrid’s stretched enough for Duck to quickly add a second finger. Enjoying the way Indrid’s lashes flutter as he presses in. “You alright, baby?”

“Yes. I’m go- _oh._ I’m good, my love.”

“Good.” Duck leans down over Indrid to kiss him. Pressing his fingers deeper to hear him whimper against his mouth, feel the twitch of Indrid’s thigh against his hip. Indrid’s arm wraps tightly around his shoulders, clutching him as Duck fingers him with increasing speed.

“I can take another,” Indrid says, breathless, stray strands of hair falling over his eyes. With his free hand, Duck brushes the hair back and kisses Indrid’s temple.

“Okay.” Duck circles a third finger around Indrid’s entrance, before he pulls his two out and tucks them together to press three in. “Real squeeze on this one.”

“Mhm, but I’m okay.” 

“You let me know if you need me to stop.”

“I won’t, that’s why I said it was okay to add anoth- _oh_ -er.”

“You peeking ahead?”

“Hard to stop. It’s always background noise.”

“Then let me give you some quiet.” Duck drops his mouth to Indrid’s shoulder and bites down, causing him to moan raggedly, his hips pressing down against Duck’s fingers. He licks over the bite mark, then sucks little bruises along Indrid’s shoulder. Indrid whimpers, bitten down nails scratching at Duck’s back.

“Gonna fuck all those futures right out of your head for a little bit,” Duck murmurs, voice low and hoarse against Indrid’s ear.

“Please.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Now, Duck. I’m ready now.”

“You sure?” Duck presses his fingers in as deep as they will go. Indrid makes a low cooing sound, eyes falling shut, fingers clenching at Duck’s shoulders.

“ _Yes._ ” 

“Alright.” Duck eases his fingers out. Dots a few kisses over Indrid’s cheek, then catches his lips in a soft, lingering kiss before he sits back. He strokes a hand down Indrid’s thigh, taking in the sight of him spread and trembling before him. “Ain’t you a picture.”

“Duck.”

“Patience, baby.” He takes the condom from where Indrid has left it on the bed and tears the packaging with his teeth. Sliding it on, he coats his hand with more lube and slowly strokes himself for a moment as he just looks at Indrid. Indrid presses up on his elbows and raises a brow at him.

“Are you intending to fuck me this evening, Duck Newton, or are you just going to watch?”

Duck mirrors the raised brow, before suddenly gripping Indrid’s legs and yanking him down, sending him back onto his back. He folds his legs up and rests them on his shoulder as he lines himself up, looking to Indrid briefly to make sure this is okay. Indrid looks back with pupils blown, biting his lower lip. Duck grins, and starts to press in. 

Once Duck’s hips are pressed flush to Indrid’s ass he pauses, gives him time to adjust to the feeling. He brushes back some of those persistent strands of hair that have flopped onto Indrid’s forehead again.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yes.” Indrid holds Duck’s arm, tilts his head and presses a kiss to Duck’s wrist. “And you? Not pushing yourself too hard?”

“Never better,” Duck says, and gives his hips a little rock against Indrid. They both exhale sharply. He wraps his arms around Indrid’s thighs, stroking lightly with his thumbs as he starts to shift his hips in slow, steady movements.

“Oh. _Oh._ Duck.”

“Yeah, baby?”

Indrid makes a ragged little sound instead of answering with words, one hand clutching at the sheets while the other tangles in his own hair. Starting to push back against Duck’s movements. 

“You can- _ah-_ go faster. Please.”

Duck nods, bracing himself against the bed as he starts to fuck faster into Indrid. Indrid’s legs bent up in a V where they’re still propped on his shoulders. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. All tight and hot around me. Look so good beneath me.”

“You don’t- _mmmph-_ look so bad yourself, my handsome human.” 

“Just not so bad?” Duck huffs a laugh, his abilities saving him from getting winded despite the increased effort. 

“Don’t want your ego to get too inflated,” Indrid says, sounding far breathier than Duck. “Oh, fuck, fuck.”

“Working on it.”

“No- my leg. Cramp.”

“Oh, shit.” Duck stops and shifts Indrid’s legs down from his shoulders. When Indrid reaches for his left one, Duck wraps his hands around his calf and starts rubbing firm circles with his thumbs. “This helping at all?”

“A little,” Indrid says, flopping back with an arm over his eyes, teeth pressing to his lower lip. “Not… not very sexy of me.”

“Hey. You’re an old man, these things happen.”

Indrid swings a pillow at him, but Duck bats it away easily with a laugh. 

“That feel any better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“No problem. You wanna stop?”

“No, no, I’m okay now.” Indrid stretches up, making grabby hands until Duck leans down and he can draw him into a kiss. He teases his tongue along Duck’s lower lip before nipping at it, drawing a quiet, playful growl from Duck. He props his elbows on either side of Indrid and starts to rock into him again. 

It’s not long before the soft hands in Duck’s hair turn to clutching fingers, nails scratching along his scalp. Indrid whimpers against his mouth. A leg comes up to hook over Duck’s hip, foot pressing into his ass, encouraging him deeper. Duck obliges with short, hard thrusts, the bed rattling beneath them.

When he feels his own orgasm getting close, Duck kisses Indrid hard one last time, then sits back. He’s finally panting a bit now. Giving himself enough space to reach between them and start stroking Indrid’s cock in quick, messy strokes.

“Oh, _oh_ , Duck. Fuck, yes, fuckfuck, gods, _Duck._ ”

“Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna let me feel that tight, perfect ass tightening around my cock? Oh, shit yeah, Indrid. Just like that.”

Indrid squirms and moans, one hand tightening in Duck’s hair while the other grips the sheets so tightly his knuckles press white against the skin.

“Fuck, fuck, Duck-“ Indrid breaks off into a long, loud moan as he comes between them. Duck strokes him through it, feeling him tighten and squeeze around him. Once Indrid is squirming from his touch with sensitivity, he drops his hand and picks up the pace, slamming into Indrid another handful of times before he follows him. Indrid presses sweet kisses along the side of his face as Duck moans against his shoulder. 

“Wow. That was- wow,” Duck says, his weight sagging onto Indrid as he plays dead. Indrid laughs and lightly slaps his arms.

“Hey.”

“I’m dead. You fucked me to death.”

“Duck!”

“RIP. Here lies Duck Newton. Dick was too bomb.”

Indrid makes a frankly adorable snorting noise against his shoulder and Duck can’t help but grin, giving away his guise. Well, more so than the talking.

“Fuck.” He eases out of Indrid, ties up the condom, and flops on the bed beside him. Indrid immediately crowds into his space; curling against his chest, nuzzling into his neck, tugging at the duvet until Duck lifts his hips so Indrid can pull it down and then up over them.

“Mmmm.” He presses a lazy kiss to the base of Duck’s throat.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Indeed. Just quite worn out after that.” Indrid punctuates his point with a yawn. Duck smiles and fondly ruffles his hair.

“Here. Drink more water for me.”

“Mmmkay.” Indrid sits up and lets Duck tip the glass to his lips, finishing the rest of the water. Duck downs his own and then gathers the glasses, Indrid whining when he gets out of bed.

“Just gonna leave these out and take a piss. I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better. I need to leech your body heat.” Indrid tugs the blankets tight around him like a cocoon and Duck laughs as he steps towards the door.

“I’ll hit the heating on for an hour, too.”

He feels warm. Satisfied sexually, yeah, but a deeper kind of glow that comes from knowing someone cares about him deeply. Someone came looking for him on his bad night, someone wanted to take care of him, someone looks at him like he put the fuckin stars in the sky. He can’t stop smiling to himself as he uses the bathroom and washes up. Face still bright when he comes back to the room and clicks off the lights.

“Someone looks happy,” Indrid says.

“Well yeah, I got the Mothman in my bed. You know how many people would kill for that? I’m one lucky guy.”

“You know I don’t like that name,” Indrid says, and Duck can hear rather than see the pout. 

“Sorry,” he says, genuine, because Indrid never uses his name against him, even after he told him. “I’m just teasin’. I’d take my Indrid over the Mothman any day.”

“Your Indrid?”

“Yeah. Uh, fuck, I mean, not like _my_ Indrid, like, fuck, like I own you or anythin’. Just, y’know, my Indrid as in like, the Indrid I know. Fuck.”

“Relax.” Cool hands find him as he slides back into bed, tugging him closer so Indrid can tangle long limbs with his. “It is I who is teasing now. I know what you mean, and… I’m perfectly content to be _your_ Indrid.”

He can’t see his expression in the dark, but he’d bet that Indrid has that shy, slightly flustered look he gets when Duck compliments him. Just before he- and there it is, Indrid’s face pressed against his neck. He smiles wide, rubbing his hands up and down Indrid’s back 

“Only if I get to be your Duck,” he says, quiet, lips against Indrid’s forehead.

“That sounds fair,” Indrid says back just as quietly.

They share a few soft, languid kisses before Indrid falls asleep, head resting on Duck’s shoulder, breathing lightly against his chest. Duck is soon to follow, not having thought about the Dave’s Dehumidifier Depot incident again that night.

*

The bed is empty when Duck wakes up. He frowns, hand reaching out to pat across the blankets. Still warm. He rubs his eyes and shifts onto his back to stretch. It’s not often Indrid leaves the warmth of the bed before him, but he supposes he might have just popped to the bathroom. When he doesn’t reappear in the next few minutes, Duck goes to investigate.

He’s tying his robe around himself as he steps out of the room, and that’s when he hears the sounds from the kitchen. Cooking - frying, maybe? - and Indrid’s voice singing loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough it wouldn’t disturb him if he were sleeping. Duck smiles and heads for the kitchen.

Indrid is back in Duck’s clothes from the night before, complete with an old, faded hoody Duck’s had since high school that he hasn’t worn in over a decade but nostalgia won’t let him dump. It drowns Indrid a bit, but he looks happy and comfy as he makes pancakes, the kitchen a mess of bowls, spills, egg shells, flour spots, and splatters. Neither of them are excellent cooks, which makes it extra endearing that Indrid is trying so hard.

As Duck gets closer he picks up on the song Indrid is singing to himself.

“Good morning, Duck. Pancakes will be ready in another minute or so, and yes, before you ask, I am singing Seal. _Kiss From A Rose_ is a classic.” 

Indrid looks back over his shoulder just as Duck steps up behind him, ready to return the kiss Duck has only just thought of giving. He turns the thought into an action, tasting syrup sweetness on Indrid’s lips.

“Have you been sneaking a taste already?” Duck asks, lips still against Indrid’s.

“Just a little taste test.”

Duck bites his lower lip and gives it a light, teasing tug before he steps back. 

“You want any-“

“Coffee. No thank you. Made a fresh pot for you, though.”

“It ain’t my birthday… Why you spoilin’ me?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Suppose not.”

“Precisely.”

Pinecone moves from where she’s been sitting on Indrid’s slippered - Duck’s slippers - feet, zigzagging across to bump her head into Duck’s shin and purr loudly. He crouches to give her some soft pets.

“Hey little princess.”

“She’s an excellent sous chef. Very encouraging.”

Duck laughs and scoops her up in one arm, pressing kisses to the top of her head as he rubs her chest with his free hand. She supplies plenty of purring feedback, and accompanying the noise he can hear Indrid singing again.

“-alone on the sea. _YooOooOouuUuuu_ became the light on the dark side of me.”

Duck joins him on the next line, going into a clumsy waltz with Pinecone around the kitchen. They end up doing a full duet together, Indrid giggling and Duck grinning so hard he feels like his face is going to split. Pinecone yowls her displeasure of being dragged into such an unbecoming scene until he sets her down. Indrid shifts the pan off the heat and takes her place in Duck’s arms, letting Duck twirl him across the kitchen.

“ _YooOooOuuUu are_ my **power** , my **pleasure** , my **pain**!” They’re more yelling the words than singing by this point, barely holding it together as they struggle through the rest of the verse before collapsing into giggles, clutching at each other.

Duck looks at Indrid, in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, face bright with joy, both of them filled with the simple giddy pleasure of shared silliness, the smell of pancakes in the air, and he feels so completely, utterly in love. Feels it like a physical force in his chest. Feels stunned that this kind of happiness came along and found him at a point in life he’d given up on it. 

“I love you,” he says suddenly, urgently. Not because Indrid doesn’t know, but because he needs him to hear it now, understand the force of this feeling. Indrid’s expression softens. There are tear streaks on his cheeks from laughing so hard. Damp following the wrinkles worn onto his skin. He’s perfect and Duck needs to kiss him immediately, so he does, then again, then more kisses that blend into one long kiss with Indrid backed against the counter and Duck’s arms around him like he’s afraid he’s going to lose him.

“Oh. Wow,” Indrid says when they break apart, a little breathless. “I certainly hope my pancakes are deserving of such affection.”

“Don’t need no pancakes for that, baby. That’s all for you.” 

Indrid smiles. He strokes his hand along Duck’s cheek, and Duck lays his hand over Indrid’s. His thumb rests on the curve of Indrid’s wrist, and he can feel the beat of Indrid’s pulse. It feels like the beat of his own heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I was like “I’m going to give Duck’s cat a different name every time I write her” but now I’m really attached to Pinecone after this.


End file.
